Baby, It's Cold Outside
by AHigherOctave
Summary: And once more, the sidekick leaves alone while the hero leaves with the wrong girl. His girl.
1. Pink Lemonade

**Summary**: And once more, the sidekick leaves alone while the hero leaves with the wrong girl. His girl.

_Prologue: Pink Lemonade_

It's Saturday before noon, he doesn't usually roll out of bed earlier than two but he makes exceptions where she's concerned. Especially when her parents are out of town and her boyfriend is too busy taking care of his post-surgery mother to show up. He takes his shirt off and asks her for something to drink.

She flips through her texts and mumbles, "There's lemonade in the fridge."

He rolls his eyes and lets himself in. Her house is nicer than most in Lima, but it isn't fancy, and there's creepy Jesus paintings and statuettes all over the place that make him feel like he's being judged for being goddamn thirsty. He walks over to the fridge and stares at it. There are pictures of Quinn coating every available inch of it with little magnet frames proclaiming things like _You're a star_ and _Our little angel_.

He bites his lip as his eyes gloss over one of her and Finn at homecoming last year. Her in a short, sparkly red dress exactly their school's color and him looking at something off camera. He hides his friend's face behind one of her and her father at her first communion and keeps looking. There are pictures of her with grandparents and friends, with her new car, on birthdays, sitting on the couch and reading. One catches his eye up in the corner, her asleep with her pom-poms in her lap. Her head leaning against the arm of the recliner in her living room, all curled up with an angelic smile on her face. He doesn't know why but he takes it and puts it in his pocket. There are a hundred more where that came from, no-one will miss it.

With that he opens the fridge and sees the pitcher of ice-cold lemonade she told him about. Except it's pink lemonade, and he doesn't like it. So instead, he takes one of the fruity little wine coolers that her mother always buys but never drinks and heads back out to the yard to start cleaning her hot tub.

The second he's out the door he hears, "What are you doing?" In that disapproving voice she uses when he makes "motions that make the angels cry" at Celibacy Club.

"What do I look like I'm doing?" He might like that she's still staring at him because he takes a nice long swig of it and then lets out a refreshed, "Aaahhh," before smirking at her.

She moves to take it away from him, "I told you could have lemonade, moron. Not alcohol, which is for people over 21."

He holds it over her head and grins, "I don't like pink lemonade."

"I don't either but that doesn't make you 21," She snaps, jumping to try to steal it. It fails and she stumbles.

"No, it makes me someone under-aged who actually has balls," He raises an eyebrow and she scowls.

"Girls aren't supposed to have balls, _Noah_," She hisses, narrowing her eyes at him. "Now go fill what you took with water and put it back."

He takes another sip like she didn't just use his birth name, his dad's name, and smiles at her, "I'm sorry, I don't talk to chickens."

She looks down at herself, in her weekend clothes, a red-beater and a black skirt, and then back up at him. "Do I look chicken?"

"Actually you look like you put on a few," She doesn't, he knows that but she wants more attention from him when she's insecure.

"Loser," She snaps, snatching his bottle from him. He groans, now she's going to go back inside and dump it into the sink.

She glares at him and tosses her head back, she presses the bottle to her lips and swallows the rest slowly but surely before looking back up at him, "Happy?" She sighs, shoving the bottle into her hands and walking towards the house. "Now I'm going to be fat and drunk."

"You aren't really fat," He says, because he really didn't expect her to be so low on self-esteem that she'd actually drink. He didn't expect her to actually drink period. "Maybe a little uptight…"

"How am I uptight?" She demands, her back going stiff and her face falling flat. "I just drank that didn't I?"

"Because I called you fat," He taunts, grinning.

"That doesn't make me uptight," She bites, putting a hand on one hip.

"No, what makes you uptight is that your head cheerleader dating the football captain and heading up the Celibacy Club," He tells her smugly and he watches the frown lines in her forehead grow, making it all the more fun. "You quote the bible, you wear your cheerleading uniform every Monday through Friday and still wear your school colors on the weekend."

"So?" She asks, but he can hear the lack of conviction in her voice that means he's already successfully offended there. Mean he's winning.

"So?" He mocks, and grins again, "You drive a punch buggy."

"You drive an El Camino," She shoots back. "It's a car for criminals." She storms into the house.

He sighs, watching her go. Somehow this always seems to be the way things end up between the two of them, he offers to do something nice for her and then screws it up with that nagging need for attention. So her turns back to the tub and looks at the water, really all he needs to do is put a vial of chlorine in and then scoop the leaves out. He opens up the tool kit that he brought for show and pulls it out, poising it above for a second.

"Puck," He hears from behind him and looks up to see her standing there in her swim suit, another cooler in her hand. "I changed my mind, you can clean it later."

"Oh," He puts the vial back in the box and closes it quickly, wondering how she possibly could have changed in less than a minute. "I'll, uh…" He picks up the box and moves to leave.

"Wait," She steps in front of him so quickly he walks into her, feeling her chest up against his with nothing separating them but that tiny little red bathing suit.

He tries to think of non-sexy things…The locker room, foot fungus, Rachel Berry. None of them work. He sees her walking through the locker room in a towel after cheerleading practice, all nice and wet from a shower. Her scoffing at Finn who has developed athlete's foot and winking at him. Her mud-wrestling with Rachel Berry.

"You could…um…" She takes at step back, "Stay. I'm kind of bored, Finn's mom had surgery."

"Yeah," He nods, "On her prostate."

She looks at him like he's an idiot, "Girls don't have prostates."

He's torn between going to beat the hell out of his best friend for lying to him or getting in that hot tub with his very hot, semi-naked girlfriend. He chooses option B. "Sorry, must have misheard," She rolls her eyes and simmers over towards the tub.

"Are you getting in or not?" She spits at him, leaning a long toned leg over the side.

"Yes, princess, can you please at least act like you have patience," He retorts, pulling off his shorts to reveal a pair of black boxers.

"You can at least act like you have brain cells," She smiles at him, leaning her blond ponytail into the water. When she comes back up she's still grinning, her pink lips all wet and her green eyes sparkling evilly. He can't help leaning in, and he definitely can't help it that she doesn't move away. He wouldn't if he could.

And as they seeming to dissolve into the heated water together his last coherent thought is that it's ironic that he came over to clean the hot tub when what they're doing is so dirty.

**AN: **So yep, I'm doing a full length Puck-Quinn story now. I love them. And since it seems like the writers are more focused on the whole Rachel/Finn/Quinn triangle, I'll create my own moments, even if they are stolen.


	2. Baby, We Got A Good Thing Going

Verse I-Baby, We Got A Good Thing Going

"You told everyone I was pregnant!" She slams him into a locker, tears streaming down her face. "Everyone! Even those Glee freaks!" He loves how her eyes turn such a bright green when she's angry. When she looks at Finn, her eyes are hazel. When she looks at him, they're emerald.

He smirks at her, "You do realize _you're _a Glee freak now." She stares at him for a moment, and his smile starts to grow. Then she kicks him in the shin and he grimaces in pain. "Fuck Quinn."

Her eyes widen and she purses her perfect lips, "Don't ever use those words in the same sentence ever again."

"Well, you do realize someone will inevitably find out-" He grins, leaning over her cockily.

"No one is going to-" She fumes, starting in on him again.

"And then, I won't even need to they'll be tossed around so much." She looks distinctly sick and he figures he's working his magic again. "Maybe with slut, whore…hypocrite…" She leans against the lockers a little, still shooting him dirty looks. "Bitch."

"And just imagine what they'll think of you," She hisses, and clutches her stomach.

"Something wrong?" He smiles as she rubs her hand over the teeny, tiny bump growing there.

"Nothing," She snaps, straightening up. "Just…just…" He watches as her hand clasps into a fist, her red-painted nails digging into her skin. "Shut up." And he watches as she runs off to the bathroom.

He sighs, picking up his backpack off the floor and turning to meet Rachel Berry with a slushie (green apple) as she gets out of Anatomy and Physiology, but he's met with Anna Marques, wannabe head cheerleader. Her blond hair is a perfectly (fake) coiffed copy of Finn's.

"Hey Puck!" She says in an excitedly peppy tone he wishes she'd reserve for practice. "We missed you at celibacy club this week!"

He breathes out and reminds himself that he doesn't throw girls in dumpsters, "I was busy," He states, counting down the seconds left to make this conversation count as polite.

"Well, that's too bad," She says so freaking cheerfully he thinks he might light himself on fire. "Anyways," He rolls his eyes, because of course she only wants to ask him to homecoming. Or so everyone's been telling him all week. "I wanted to ask you…"

"No," He says flatly. He'd rather go with Miss Sylvester or the OCD guidance counselor than her. He's rather go with that gothic stuttering chick. Hell, he'd rather go with Rachel Berry.

"Quinn's not pregnant?" He bites his lip. And looks behind him, in the direction she just ran off in. "Because Santana and Brittany said she was and they said they heard it from you and I figured you'd know since your Finn's best friend and he's the daddy. And since she is pregnant, someone would need to replace her as captain-"

He feels his fingers grip the cup as she goes on to say something about becoming homecoming queen since no-one will vote for Quinn and Finn this year. And as she keep talk, talk, talking at him he wonders who deserves it more. Sure, Rachel's annoying but at least she can sing. He's heard Anna try on Gwen Stefani…it's not pretty. And at least Berry's hair is real. And she has two gay dad's, the world is basically set against her, and Anna…

He can't help throwing it in her face. He watches the green mess droop down the front of her red cheerleading uniform and thinks now he understands the meaning of Christmas colors. And he thinks of the way Quinn's eyes look against her uniform.

He smirks, walking away with the empty cup in his hand. Yep, that was definitely a good use for that slushie.

-

_When he was ten years old, his class took a trip to a dairy farm in Wisconsin. Mrs. Cohen led them all into the barn to see how milking machines worked. He led a select few people (Finn and Quinn) outside to have fun with the cows. One of his mom's boyfriends had done this same thing with him once under the pretenses that he was taking Puck to a Packers' Game._

_Once outside, Quinn discovers her unbridled love for cows when one licks her hand. And Finn finds out he's terrified of the noises they make, standing outside the fences as his best friend and the petite blond girl poke and prod them. Puck, he looks for the biggest one and tries not to step in poop, which proves to be impossible._

_He finally spots the mother lode, a brown cow with an ear branded 203. It's huge and slow and has no chance whatsoever of holding it's own weight. He runs over excitedly, both arms outstretched to push it. He's almost there, his feet weighing down with shit, when his path is blocked._

_There stands Quinn, big green eyes blazingly angry as she holds a hand out to stop him. "No." She says simply, and he finds himself stopping under her touch. Her hand is warm, tiny. And it smells pretty._

_She looks up at him, pleading, and he feels himself smile at her. "Okay," He nods, and walks back towards the barn with Finn running to get away from the scary animals._

_Once he's up next to him again, Quinn having returned to the girls to squeal over how gross cow poop is, he leans down to whisper in his ear. Even then, unusually tall. "I can't believe you let her touch you, you're gonna need a cootie shot now."_

_He nods, holding out his arm and letting Finn perform the procedure. "Circle, circle, dot, dot, now I've got my cootie shot." Puck drops his left arm and lets the right one rise, watching the blond girl giggle as she heads back towards the bus, "Square, square, knife, knife, now I've got it for life." As he walks up the steps, passing by her seat, he thinks shots might not be that bad. Especially not if it means letting Quinn Fabray touch him._

-

He decides to still meet Rachel Berry outside of class. The second she sees him, she shields herself with her binder. He sighs, pushing it down, "I come unarmed."

She pulls it back up, letting her brown eyes peek over the edge a little this time, "Like I'm going to trust the boy who's thrown a slushie at me everyday since high school started."

He shrugs, "Yeah, sorry about that."

She glares, and he notices her eyes don't turn green. He wonders why Finn wastes his time with her when he could be with Quinn. "No you aren't."

He shrugs again, "Nope, not in the least."

She lowers her armor, and he notices a hideous picture of a cat playing with yarn on it. "What do you want Puckerman?"

He rolls his eyes, "A temporary peace treaty."

"Temporary?" She scoffs, and starts strutting down the hallway. "Not interested."

"Fine, permanent, but I need a favor," He follows after her. Damn, she walks fast for a short girl.

She scoffs again, and he debates the validity of giving up that slushie, "Why would I do you a favor?" She stops at her locker, putting in the combination. 3-17-8. If she ends up on his bad list, this could come in handy.

"Because you like Finn, right?" She freezes, her hand clasped around her American Lit book.

"I don't know who told you that but it isn't true," She whispers, pulling it out and shoving it in her roller suitcase thing.

He laughs, "No-one told me but it's pretty obvious. Finn's my boy, I can talk you up. Make him forget all about Quinn."

"And her baby? What about that?" He forgot that he'd told the Glee Club, no doubt her little underlings had relayed her the news.

"I think…" He looks at the ground. "I think that part will take care of itself." He's banking on the fact that Quinn will come clean herself, once she realizes that he isn't a waste of space and a Lima loser. He hopes.

"No." She states, zipping her bag and slamming her locker door.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask for," He is really at the end of his patience rope with her.

"I'm not interested in having sex with anyone right now, least of all you," He chokes at the thought of this. It burns his brain straight through.

"No, please, don't. I definitely, definitely, am not asking for that," He needs soap now. Or a worse image, anything else…nothing's working though. Not even the thought of Coach and his girlfriend, and that usually does.

She stops in her tracks and looks at him, seemingly trying to figure out what else he could want. She comes up empty, "What?"

"I need a date for Homecoming," She makes a puking motion. "Yeah, but I broke up with Santana, and I just slushied Anna in the face."

Her eyes go wide with excitement, "You slushed Anna Marques instead of me?"

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, whatever. The thing is I've dated most of the other cheerleaders-"

"I'll do it!" She beams at him, putting a hand over her heart. "Just the thought of a her all covered in cherry flavored-"

"It was green apple," He corrects, smirking. It was pretty amusing, now that he thinks about it.

"Yeah," She waves her hand at him. "It still makes it worth it…I mean, Anna…" She laughs, waving at him. "I'll tell you my dress color when I pick it out," She acknowledges, strutting off with that annoying pink thing rolling behind her. And he has a funny feeling he knows what color she'll end up with.

And there is no way he's matching that.

**AN: **I kind of don't like this chapter, but I kind of do. So…we'll see what you think I guess. Also, I'm doing songs with baby in them for titles, so if you have a lyric you'd like to see. Just tell me in your review.


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